


Better Dreams

by crazylittleelf



Category: Fringe
Genre: Angst, Dark, Episode Related, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, POV Third Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-24
Updated: 2009-04-24
Packaged: 2017-10-02 22:15:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazylittleelf/pseuds/crazylittleelf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Olivia tries to cope after visiting the mind of a killer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Post-ep for Bad Dreams.

It was habit at this point. She wasn't even surprised to see him in the booth at the back of the bar, hunched over a scotch, a lonely whiskey on the table across from him. He'd started without her but she was pretty sure that days of forcing herself to stay awake, staving off exhaustion with pills and fear would give her a decent handicap. They tried to keep pace with each other so they'd be equally miserable in the morning. She tossed the drink back as soon as she slid into the booth and was waving the waitress over before she shrugged out of her coat.

"This is crap," she muttered.

He lifted his scotch. "Welcome insomnia-ville." His eyes were more heavy-lidded than usual, dark in the dim light of the bar. She watched the glass against his lips, the motion of his throat as he swallowed. Her eyes followed his hand as he set the glass on the table.

The habit of not sleeping was ingrained. It was too late to do anything in the apartment; she didn't want to wake Ella and Rachel. Too early to go into work; she didn't want Broyles to know she still wasn't 100%. She didn't want to run or do situps or go in to the gym at the Federal Building. She didn't want to pull on yet another gray shirt and question her entire personality. She wanted, she decided after a bit of thought, to quit her job and move as far away from Boston as possible and pretend she was a normal person who had never been a lab rat, never seen a monster and certainly never ridden along in the head of a serial killer and enjoyed it.

"I didn't enjoy it." Whispered, but not so quiet that he didn't hear.

"Enjoy what?" His voice was soft and the tenor of it pricked the fine hairs on her arms to attention. She met his eyes and was overwhelmed by they sense of knowing she got from him, that he knew her, everything, _no where to hide_.

"Nothing." She pressed her hands flat against the table to cover the shaking but there was nothing to do for the flush that spread across her face or the heat that pooled below her stomach, intensifying what had been there since she… since Nick… she blushed even harder and tore her eyes away from Peter's. _He'd see… he'd know_.

He sipped at his scotch and watched her and she could almost feel it, feel his speculation, his curiosity. She clutched at the second drink as soon as it hit the table, kept her eyes pinned to the glass. She was shaking her head slightly, unconsciously and he was reminded of the way her head had tossed back and forth as she rode Nick Lane's mind.

He remembered how she sounded, how hot her hands had been under his, the wash of emotion he got from her. He'd felt the loathing, both Nick's and Olivia's, fear from her and anticipation from him, despair from the girl, the current of lust that underpinned everything before he'd pushed it all away.

He slid his hand across the table, not lifting it from the faded surface. She tilted her head in that quizzical manner she had, changing the angle of view in an attempt at understanding. Her eyes were black pools rimmed with green and they reminded him of something but he couldn't put his finger on it. Inches now, bare inches between them and she whispered hoarsely, "Stop… don't."

He froze but didn't withdraw his hand. He could almost feel the heat from her skin. "I don't… God, Peter, when he touched her, when he saw her he knew… he knew he was going to kill her. He was thinking about it when… it felt so good. It felt good to know that. What's wrong with me." Tears were welling in her eyes.

"It wasn't you." Murmuring, watching her fear-blackened eyes. "It was him. That's all."

She shook her head again, harder now and her hair brushed the sides of her face. "I still… I _enjoyed_ it. You saw me. You all saw me. It's all I can feel. I can't…"

He closed the remaining space and settled his hands over hers. She stilled like before, eyes wide and trusting and the memories clamored for a moment before they scattered again. "You need to sleep. Come on." He stood and pulled her with him, fishing in his pocket for a twenty. He lead her from the bar, hand in hand so they wouldn't lose each other.

She was trembling as she followed him.

They were silent on the walk to the hotel, in the elevator to his room. Once he felt panic welling up in her and squeezed her hand gently until it receded. In the room he crowded her and she backed up until he pressed her against the door. She opened her mouth to speak and was stopped by his finger on her lower lip. He traced the curve of her mouth with feather light strokes. She sighed, relaxing, letting his weight pin her and hold her in place. His lips replaced his finger, light and gentle. He cupped her face and leaned his forehead against hers.

He led her to the bed, undressed them both, keeping contact with her skin as much as possible He brushed light kisses over patches of freckles, over her collar bones, her hair. He pushed the rumpled blanket aside. He guided to the bed and crawled after her, curling against her. He pulled the blanket around them and kissed her temple. "Sleep."

"But…"

"Shhhh…" He closed his eyes and relaxed onto her. The weight of his limbs was comforting and she turned her face to nuzzle against his before sleep claimed her as well.

***

He woke hours before dawn and stretched his arm out to the side, searching. Warmth, and nothing more. He opened his eyes slowly, took in the light from the bathroom bisected by her shadow. He rose and padded across the room to stand behind her, watching her stare at her reflection. He touched her hip and her eyes dropped to his mirrored fingers. "You're not him, 'Livia."

Her eyes rose slowly to his, watched his reflection lick his lips. He stepped closer, molding himself along her back, sliding his hand from her hip to her belly, pulling her back gently. He ran his other hand down her arm, fingers barely grazing skin, and cured his hand on top of hers. She shuddered and closed her eyes, leaning back into him, head resting against his shoulder. He lifted her hand, placed it on her hip, trapped under his. "Open your eyes."

She turned her face towards his neck, pressing her lips against where his pulse throbbed. He pushed her hand up her side, up to her breast. "Open your eyes, 'Livia." He curled her fingers around her nipple, squeezing the erect flesh. She pushed her hips forward against the edge of the sink, mouth open on his neck, panting wetly against his skin. His left hand slid lower, grazing pale curls. His right abandoned her hand on her breast, moved up, stroking the column of her throat. She whimpered.

He held her chin, turned her face towards the mirror. "Look."

Her eyes were nearly black, the slightest ring of green surrounding dilated pupils. An eclipse, he thought as he brushed his lips against her ear. "You're not him." His fingers moved lower though her curls, pushing between her heated flesh and the cold countertop. "You're not theirs." Fingers pressed against her clit and she bucked her hips. He moved his hand lower, one finger sliding inside her, curling upwards sharply. "Mine." He pressed hard with his finger, the heel of his hand rubbing over her clit, and she was shaking against him, coming apart. "Mine." She cried out when she shattered.

He kissed the side of her face, the corner of her mouth, turning her and lifting her to the edge of the counter. She wrapped her legs around him and pulled him to her. He slid into her in one long stroke, hands on her ass, dragging her closer. He kissed her mouth, her eyelids, licked the tears from her cheeks and rocked into her steadily. She clawed at his back, wordless cries falling from her lips. He moaned into her mouth as he came, "Mineminemine."

She held his hand when they staggered back to bed but she no longer felt lost and when they lay facing each other, legs tangled together, she smiled. "Hey."

He smiled back. "Hi."

She cupped her hand along his jaw, stubble tickling the palm of her hand. He leaned forward and brushed a kiss against her lips. Contentment washed between them and they slept, really slept for the first time either of them could remember.


End file.
